


Tremble For My Beloved

by bloodyblade



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Violence, Developing Friendships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyblade/pseuds/bloodyblade
Summary: AU in which the daughter of a nobleman was running for her life after an orc attack, and after being welcomed under Gandalf's wings, joins the quest to reconquer Erebor. Sort of.
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is an itroduction! No Thorin yet, but I do hope you enjoy it! (:

The earth beneath your feet was shaking and trembling, or perhaps it was your legs that were too spent from running in a desperate and unprepared sprint. Entering a crumbling house, you hide behind a wall, standing on a crouch to be able to take a peek on the outside from the window. Holding the machete tightly to your chest, your eyes sweeped the hiding place you chose looking for possible exits. 

Sweat was running down your face, lingering at the eyebrows and making their way down. Your heart was beating as strong and fast as a drum, you could feel it in your chest, throat and the sound in your ears. Harsh breaths were coming out silently as you could manage. You were trembling. Exhausted, scared and hurt. Dirt was accumulating under your fingernails along with specs of blood that also tainted the green dress you wore, shoes and thighs, finer than many could ever wish for, had its beauty and delicacy ruined. _You looked ruined._

Your hair, that before was put in an intricate updo, was now almost completely loose and caked with sweat and blood that wasn’t yours. Askell, who you grew up having him as your shadow, died for you. He was your protector, always have been. A knight dedicated to you, before you could even walk and always accompanied you through your most important feats -learning how to walk, riding a horse for the first time and then falling epically on your ass, watching you from afar on your every name day. God, it was his blood on your hair, face, chest, dress. The blow was so hard on his head that he fell over you, who were behind him just like he demanded you should be. You scrambled back but part of his body landed on you, knocking you to the ground with him before you could push his body off, Askell’s heavy armour making everything even more difficult. Just as the enemy turned around, you finally managed to get free and balance your protector’s weapon by your side. It was pointy and shone under the candle lights, as if it had never been used before. Because it hasn’t, Askell never needed to. No one in your father’s state ever needed too. 

But looking up and coming face to face to this… _creature’s_ face, your blood ran cold. It was pale and ugly, uglier than any story could ever make up. So you got up at your fastest pace and with as much strength you could gather, took the knight’s weapon and ran. Ran until your lungs were on fire and felt like your deep, uneven breaths weren’t enough to keep your body going. Everything passed in a blur, as if your body alone knew what it was doing and so you dodge the fights and screaming and crying people, successfully making your way out of your forever home and the whole manor and what else it consisted of. As you slowed down, you ventured into a small city, knowing you must have ran a lot, for the city your caregivers always spoke of was certainly a few miles away. 

And that’s how you found yourself where you are now. You didn’t look back in fear of what you could see and in fear of your enemies, which was most definitely a stupid decision but you couldn’t go back now. You knew your father had enemies, but never thought anyone would be so cruel to try and murder not just your family line but other nobles that were present at the feast your father was giving. Did someone hire them? Did your father somehow get on these creature’s bad side and leave them seeking revenge? _How would dad even get in their way?_

 _Don’t think about it._ Those things didn’t matter, not anymore at least. Askell was dead, your father was most certainly dead right now and your mother died the moment you took your first breath. You heard how people would whisper that when you came out of your mother’s womb, you stole her breath and ultimately caused her death, and that it was a sign of a curse they were certain you carried: anyone to ever love you would most likely face an awful and painful death. So far, they weren’t wrong. Perhaps you were cursed.

You stayed alert for a while, besides the sounds of your now normalizing breaths, all you could hear were the sounds of nature that surrounded the place. Overgrown grass surrounded the house, allowing for all kinds of bugs to make home there. She could see the flickering soft light of the fireflies, hear the cicadas and buzz of wings that flew past your face, way too close for your liking. And you started to lose track of time, your legs growing tired from carrying your weight in the same position for too long. Slipping slowly towards the ground, you let yourself rest for a moment, closing your eyes and puffing a shaky breath past your lips. You were _so tired._ It felt like a fever dream, the people chatting and laughing and eating and mingling around. The sound of your father’s boisterous laughter ringing loud and accompanied by many others. A song played on the background softly, a few people fluttering on the ground with grace and kids running around, being chased and chatiest by their caretakers. Braids more intricate than others, some showing off and proudly stating their status, either as rich as piss or happily married, courting. Beads as beautiful and delicate than many could ever wish for. Gosh, you did wish to have one on her hair at some point in life. But now all that seemed so… shallow and unimportant. 

How could such futile happiness become a bloodbath so quickly? Thankfully you didn’t see any children hurt and held ignorant hope that they managed to flee to somewhere safe. Gosh, you could hardly believe that, on her way there, she slashed one of the monsters, the hard blade buried itself on his shoulder as he screamed in rage and pain, blood trickling down it’s bare chest and after tugging once, twice to get it out of him, it’s blood rushed out like a horror story would detail, making him stumble and set its eyes on you form, but before he could do anything, you hit it with the machete hard on the knee, making him fall on his face. Although the goal was to kill it with a hard strike to his chest, the weight of the weapon didn’t allow you to do so. But this creature was the same that killed Askell, so you felt a hint of satisfaction to cause it enough damage to somehow avenge him. 

But it’s not like you didn’t get hurt at all, you were no fighter, even if Askell did try to give you self defense classes with a smaller sword. Main word being try. You could manage, but doubted you could handle yourself in battle, but he assured you that you would never need to go into battle as long as you had him. Your hairline was definitely sore and the skin open, allowing a little blood to pool around and dirty your face worse than it already was. On your run, you tripped and fell on your hands and knees, getting your palms scrapped and pulsing with pain from the fall and having to carry a heavy weapon your unprepared hands were unused to.

And you waited for something, anything. But nothing came. Were they waiting for you to leave the place or go back to the manor? _It was better to stay here until morning, wasn’t it?_ Probably, yes. So, with your knees to your chest, you put your head between them, allowing your body to relax a little and feeling yourself going a tiny bit slack, your machete close by your side. 

If it weren’t from the footsteps on the house terrain, you would’ve fallen asleep for your eyes were heavy and mind fatigued. Standing up slowly and carefully, trying to step as lightly as elves would, you picked up your weapon and walked towards the front door. Whoever was outside, their steps were light, but not light enough that you couldn’t hear them. You could also notice how confidently they were walking, so it couldn’t be children either, and by the sounds of it, they were alone.

Your head was pounding and your hands were shaking again, you were reaching the peak of exhaustion. You held your breath as three knocks sounded one after the other on the door. After not giving any kind of response, the door opened slowly and creaked loudly and a tall, slim robbed figure stood at the door, against the moonlight only their silhouette can be seen. Holding the weapon in front of you with both hands, you took a fighting instance, or what you thought could be described as it. 

“Reveal yourself.” You demanded with a slight tremble and agitation to your voice, only to have the figure step forward with a chuckle. It was a man, with a long staff and grey robes that reached the ground and covered the length of his body. And he was old, a long beard adorning his face. A pointed blue hat complemented his appearance, making him look like… like he wanted to seem like a wizard.

“Ah, I figured you would be here, Y/N daughter of Sindel, son of Serill.” The senile man began, walking closer so you make out his features. His beard was as long as you initially made out, and as white as his long hair, just like the scarf he wore. His bushy eyebrows framed his eyes, wrinkled due to the warm smile he was trying to convey. 

“Who are you and how do you know my name? How do you know my father?” You asked, keeping yourself unmoving where you stood. He sighed deeply but didn’t let his lips turn any other way.

“I’m Gandalf, the grey.” He brought his unoccupied hand to his chest, introducing himself kindly, before letting it fall along with a sorrowful expression on his face. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I vowed your father to take care of you should… the unexpected turn of events happened before time was right.” He motioned for you to lower your hands, and you did it hesitantly. If he wanted, he could’ve hit you that staff he was holding, but he probably needed aid to keep standing. He looked _very_ old. “In fact, you’re not safe at all while you’re here, come.” He motioned for you to follow him as he turned around but you didn’t move an inch. _How did he know your father and did this man owe him anything? Did you even know your father at all?_ He looked back at you, taking carefully your fear struck features and ratted clothes and understood. Of course he knew there was a slight possibility you didn’t know anything at all about who your father truly was but more importantly, _who_ you truly were and just how important you are.

“How do you know you’re not one of them?” You finally voiced your main concern at the moment, Gandalf cocked his head to the side. “My… My _family_ was murdered. How do I know you’re just trying to lure me out here so they can finish what they began?” You took another step back, waiting for an answer. He didn’t look exactly threatening but you couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not right now. 

“Would that answer your question?” He asked as he handed you the object that was in his possession. _Where did he get this?_ It was a dagger. Your mother’s dagger. One of the belongings she left for you, passed from mother to daughter in your family’s lineage. The design on the hilt was intricate and beautiful. It was rather dusty and had a few marks of use, but you were sure it would’ve been from _her._ Your father often told you how skilled she was, but never allowed you to use it. It was merely something decorative laying proudly on your nightstand. Until you lost it. You cried for days and dared not to tell your father, he would most likely be furious. Askell told you once how your parents knew your mother could possibly not survive after birth and how she separated and dedicated something for you, her first and only child. Your dad did ask you once about it, he probably already knew by them, but you decided to pretend everything was where it was supposed to be. _Which was wherever you wanted it._ That earned you a pointed and warning glare for him but you only smiled sweetly back then. Now you had a slight idea where it went.

And it could be a copy, a very good one, for there were several skilled blacksmiths your father knew about. If it weren’t for one detail, you would not have believed him: two designs on the blade. The vessels of the sun and moon. Your mother has always been so devoted to Mahal. Your eyes glazed over, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Straightening yourself, you looked at the man that was waiting patiently for you to analyze what was yours by right. You looked at him with determination and a chuckle left his lips as he smiled again.

“Come, let’s get you somewhere safe for the time being.” He beckoned you closer again and this time you obeyed but not falling into step beside him and keeping a close watch on his back as best as you could with only to moon to illuminate the darkness ahead.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you looked around warily, searching silently with a calculated gaze for any threats. Night time was never kind for those endangered and that’s exactly what you were. You could trust him, maybe. But you didn’t know if you could protect yourself and the old man as well. _What’s with the pointy hat anyway?_

“Well, my dear,” he began, waiting for you to fall into step besides him, which you did after a moment of doubt “You most definitely are in desperate need of a bath.”


	2. Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry for taking longer to update than expected! I'm graduating college next month and things have been rather crazy! Also I'm an athlete and I injured myself while training and I had to take a few days off, and that made me feel kinda upset and unmotivated to write. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> [edit: all mistakes were fixed]

Dark wood and stains covered the place, certainly making an… impression. You didn’t open your mouth to say a word about the place, you were in no position to demand anything and you didn’t quite trust the man yet. Or not man, whatever. He said he was a wizard, so that explains the clothing and interesting choice of accessories. 

You did go back to your family’s state, but they got in through the servers door, wishing to avoid the scenery. Your heart broke to pisces knowing you would have to leave them there, not being able to give them a proper goodbye, ceremony and burial. They didn’t deserve to be found like this, and only Mahal knows how long it would take for someone to eventually notice something was amiss and search for answers. But you did what you had to do, walking too slowly to Gandalf’s liking, telling you to fasten your pace in case anyone came back looking for you, which you knew was very likely. But inside, you felt like saying goodbye at least to the walls and foundations you were raised in, it wasn’t likely that you were to ever see this place again. 

A few paintings were hanging around your room, all done by your own hand, some doodles from your childhood who looked rather scary under the candlelights when it was dark, and several flowers painted separately as you tried to learn how to paint throughout the years. You never did get much better at it, but it didn’t matter much, it was something you enjoyed and proud yourself on. It looked much better than your needle work, anyways. Opening the wardrobe doors, you saw one of your first tries of embroidering a skirt, which earned a scolding from your father -that’s how ugly it was, yes. 

The memories weren’t stuck to a place, but it pained you deeply having to leave all of it behind. Grabbing a fabric travelling bag, which Gandalf advised would be much well fitted for your travel, you separated essentials. Mostly. Some fitting and soft trousers and whatever was better for traveling on foot and on horseback. You did get some dresses, but they were not a priority anymore. Some bags of coins, soaps, basic necessity items and a diary. For the calendar, of course. You needed to keep track of time, not to reminisce at the pictures and drawings that remained there since childhood. And before the wizard could bolt in there and drag you from your room and on your feet for a few hours, you changed clothes. Boots, trousers and a lighter tunic, shoving another one fit for winter on the bag after remembering you didn’t know how long you would be travelling for. You didn’t have time to shower, but you did clean yourself the best you could. 

With one last look, you blew out the candles and left with a heavy heart, hearing Gandalf mumbling to himself, probably complaining about how long you took. He didn’t say anything when you joined him again, just gave you a quick glance and started walking in long strides, making it difficult to keep up with him and his spidery legs. Thankfully he had a horse, a beautiful white one. You may have asked what its name was, only to receive no answer at all besides him telling you to climb behind him. _Asshat._

And you obviously couldn’t tell how much time had passed, you only knew: you were moving to Mahal knows where and you should have got something to eat before leaving. The stars were moving at a good pace, but you were uncomfortable. Uncomfortable on top of that horse, uncomfortable behind that man and following him. Hopefully he wasn't going to hurt you, at least not more than you already were anyway. He didn’t make any conversation and you didn’t feel like starting one, tiredness finally crawling it’s way onto your bones and making your eyes heavy. And even when your emotions were all over the place and feeling like you still had to keep your eyes open, you didn’t think Gandalf was bad. He helped you after all, it was just… things were complicated right now, your bottled emotions wanted to spill, in the form of tears, yells, spit, heavy and painful breaths. But knowing he was taking you far away from danger was enough. 

With a sigh, you tightened your arms around the wizard and dropped your head softly on his back and allowed your tired eyes to close. Just to rest a little, trying to keep the gruesome images of the day away and burrowed your face deeper against his worn but comforting clothes. The beads on your braids clinked against each other, the only other sound besides the horse’s hooves hitting the ground and nocturnal animals. As if you were one with the night, your vision got darker and your thoughts silent. But before you could sleep you heard the wizard’s comforting words:

“Don’t worry dear, the inevitable doom of today is going to be over soon.” He spoke over your shoulder while patting your hands and letting you fall asleep, embracing the very welcomed darkness. 

And it felt like you just slept for 20 minutes only. When you arrived it was still dark out, so you had no idea of how much time passed. It was a different town, something probably made for there were many passertroughts in the region maybe. _What other reason could there be for an inn, if from where you stood everything seemed so small?_ The stars still shone brightly through the holes poked on the dark sheets of the sky. Your body felt heavy but you allowed Gandalf to help you down, much more gently than when he practically threw you on top of the horse before. Stumbling a little on your feet, you managed to throw a dirty look his way before stepping aside so a stable boy could take the horse to the safety of a roof over it’s head and lots of carrots and apples, hopefully. And by the gods, was this boy tall! Taller than you, anyway. Although there were people much different than you in the city close to where you lived, you never got to close. And maybe you shouldn’t be too close anyway, looking up too much would make your neck hurt.

But you were rather different anyway, somewhat. You didn’t have the facial hair other female dwarves seemed to have, which you dad said you should be thankful for, for mean wouldn’t be as likely to treat you as harshly as them. And even if you never met many others from your race, you felt like an outsider. Whenever you would be out on the city, other dwarflings would point at you and call you a half-breed and when returning home and trying as best as you could to persuade your father to talk about your mother, he would never indulge you, marching away heatedly. This happened way too many times for your liking but you could never let it go. Why didn’t your home have paintings of her? Why was your knowledge of her so limited, only through what others were willing to tell you, but you couldn’t go through her things, take a peek of her dresses and shoes and gloves? Of course, plenty of theories you had but tried not to jump to conclusions. You didn’t really know what to think of it.

Your shortness sometimes would be met with raised eyebrows by some, but mostly that was the end of that. Children were always more brutal and didn’t have a filter on their mouths, often being shushed by their parents. What would they say if your status was different? Maybe now you would get to know. But at home you were always treated kindly by those who were of the race of men. Such as Askell. _He didn’t deserve the end he met._

Shaking your head you followed Gandalf’s steps inside the in, and everything was… big and brown and smelt of beer. In the entry was what could be called a reception desk, too tall for you to try to take a look at what was hidden under that and you would die before asking the wizard to pick you up. Mahal, maybe you were supposed to be born a hobbit, who knows. To the side a bar and tables with chairs on top of it were empty, which explained why your body wanted to shut down on the spot. The two of them exchanged a few words, the man behind the counter looking bored as ever, even going so far to yawn on the wizard’s face, who seemed unfazed. 

You haven’t noticed they were done talking before Gandalf beckoned you to go with him, the man’s eyes trained on you. You quickly averted your eyes and hurriedly fell into step with Pointy Hat. How could you not lose yourself in thought when he barely talked with you and didn’t even bother to respond at times? _Just because he helped you he really thought he could be so… rude?_

He stopped in front of a door and handed you a key before opening it, walking towards the door besides yours. Peeking you could see a bed, a fire place and a chair. A tiny window that allowed the moonshine inside, but too tall for you to reach, even if you stood on the bed. 

“You need sleep, dear. I’ll send for you at the ‘morrow and we’ll talk.” He said unlocking his own bedroom door. “I give you my word, if that counts for something” He said with a hint of humor in his voice, which prompted you to send a small smile his way. Oh, he was definitely aware of your lack of trust in him.

“G’night.” You wished and hurriedly closed the door behind you, not wanting to wait for his answer, although you could hear a chuckle from where you stood, planted behind the door. When you heard the door close, you finally allowed a relieved breath to leave your body. Locking the door and throwing the bag on the chair and falling face first on the mattress. You couldn’t wait for the next day. Well, you didn’t really want to know what was gonna happen tomorrow, but didn’t have much choice. Your body needed rest anyway, so you allowed yourself to close your eyes and let your body go numb before you fell into unconsciousness. 

Maybe whoever designed that place should be fired, for waking up with the blazing rays of sunshine directly onto your eyes should be considered a major offense. You had a restless sleep, waking up in the few hours you had and turning around a considerable amount of times to try and make yourself comfortable on the thin mattress. Despite waking up a little disoriented as to where you were, you quickly grasped what happened last night. Screams, blood and guts, running, a wizard and a shady place you never heard of. It should’ve stayed that away, for the sake of your back. Would’ve been more comfortable sleeping on the grass. _Ugh._

Sitting up, you ran your hands on top of your hair to access the damage- definitely felt like a rat’s nest, if you wondered how matted it was. _Maybe running your hands thought it would be a bad idea, fingers might get stuck._ Quickly scrambling for your bag, you fished for a brush to rey to make it as presentable as possible, knowing it would still look rather… odd. Would Gandalf be awake this early? You were dying to eat anything at all, really. Hopefully he would pay for you and answer your questions.

With nothing to do besides staring at the ceiling, you righted yourself to your best efforts and left the room, taking your belongings with you. You could hear chatter coming from the direction you came from last night. Well, the territory could be… hostile. So yes, of course you had reason to feel anxious and rather worried. Clearly a place made for the race of men, and you could tell. Their strides were long but not as long as the elves would have. They didn’t have the same height, they were similar, sure, but you still had to bend your neck towards the sky sometimes to talk to them. And if the woman who just passed you in the corridor you were standing for a few moments having your monolog was any indication, they either were very confused with your presence or thought you were a lost child. If anything, you were sure you were a very pretty and slightly dirtied child sneaking from the room you were sharing with your parents. 

Inhaling deeply you made your way to the dining area, seeing a few people on the tables, including the wizard, smoking a pipe. Looking to the sides, no one was paying attention to you, too enthralled in their own conversations to pay attention to anything else. Making your way towards the table he’s chosen, he had his eyes on you. Diverting your eyes, you sat in front of him.

“Good morning” he said while the smoke dissipated from around him “I take you slept well? You seemed eager to go to bed.” He crossed his hands on the table in front of him, smiling slightly. _Was he… making a joke?_

“Uh, yeah… I did.” You cleared your throat awkwardly “Thanks for, y’know… That.” You tried again. Did he catch your meaning? “All of it.” You said with a nod. He seemed amused but just sent a nod back your way, before falling into a relative silence, if you ignore the chatter and clattering of cluttering. Servants were collecting things from tables and delivering fresh goods, now that made you realize how hungry you were before noticing a plate being deposited in front of you. Turning quickly to Gandalf, he simply inclined his head and arched an eyebrow -that made you delve right in, as gracefully as you could, but you were _starving._

After a few minutes of silence, he began “So... I’m sure you have some questions and I would gladly answer them all.” He adjusted himself in the chair, sitting straighter. “As you might already know, my dear, I’m Gandalf.” You nodded with a mouthful of food “Also known as the Gandalf The Grey, the wizard.” He finished and you smirked, with a nod of understanding you pointed to your clothes. He chuckled “Well?”

With a sigh, you put everything aside, mimicking his posture, inclined on the table as best as you could. “I have several questions, actually.” He gestured for you to continue “Well, first I would like to know how you knew my father.”

“That’s a rather easy question to answer, my dear.” He said with a smile “Sindel, your father, helped me in a moment of need in exchange of my word.” You gave him as someone whose patience was thin. “And that means that for his help, I would give him my help in return, a promise, if you will.” _Okay, that made sense. Dad did help several people, that’s who he was after all._ “A promise to keep you safe, when the time comes.”

“So that’s how you knew where I lived?” He agreed with a small _of course_ . “Okay, but that’s weird, what you said. You said _‘when the time comes’_ . And when you found me, I was hiding from death. How did you even know about that? Also how did you find me and how did you know _when_ to come for me?” You spilled the many reasons why you were suspicious of him. _Well, there’s his chance of proving himself trustworthy. Even though he already saved your life._

“You know what’s interesting?” He said moving to the side, taking a folded paper and setting it in the middle of the table. “Every dwarf has a prophecy. Sindel, your father had one. Your grandfather Serill had one and so did his One and so did their parents and their parent’s parents. See, when you come of age, you are given your prophecy and have an elder versed in Moon-letters to translate it for you in a private ceremony. But, considering everything that happened and the amount of… _loss_ dwarves had that fateful day, several prophecies were lost, along with the ones who could read Moon-letters.” You reached for the paper curiously. “Your father had his letter and had it translated, so he knew of his fate, shared it with me. He _knew of his end_ but always dreamt with a family. That’s why he asked of me to promise to protect his offspring, when his prophecy was to be fulfilled.” He finished leaning back on the chair, staff on his hand.

Unfolding your prophecy you found… nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Are you playing a trick on me?” You mumbled angrily, trying to manage the most menacing look you could muster. 

“Moon-letters can only be revealed by the moon at a certain time”

“Okay… but what does my prophecy have anything to do with you? I get it, my father gave it to you because of his prophecy but…” _How am I going to say this without sounding like I don’t have manners?_ “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me that is related to it. Maybe something you want to know about it?”

“There is only something I want to be sure of.” He replied after taking a pause to think on what to say. Shaking his head, he continued “Regarding your prophecy, yes. But for that to happen, we have to go somewhere else that is not here.”

“Well, where are we supposed to go then?” You asked, folding the paper back and hiding it inside your sleeve, apprehensively imagining that you would have to go somewhere else, _again_ . Further away from where you were born and raised, _again_.

“Our destination is Rivendell.”


End file.
